Make It Work
by Alurax
Summary: George is thoroughly confused, both for his lack of reaction, over losing his twin, and the odd hallucinations that have plagued him since. Fortunately, he acquires a very special friend to help him through this trying time. Hint: It's not Angelina.
1. Prologue

All around him people were screaming. Running, shooting off spells every which-a-way. Lee was in a near panic, surprised he hadn't been hit by a stray stunner, or whatever else was flying around him. He couldn't see any familiar faces, and anytime he did, it was typically the face of a Death Eater.

So when he had rounded the corner and ran right smack into someone, his first instinct told him to try and at least stun who or whatever it was.

"Whoa, Lee!"

His wand flew out of his hand, and it took him a moment to register that he recognized the voice. Dumbfounded, he looked to see the red-haired wizard getting to his feet. "You ok?"

"G-George?"

George held a hand down to help his friend to his feet, handing him his wand. Too relieved to even stop and think to check, Lee threw his arms around him. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"Ok, easy now." George laughed, nudging him off. Soon, they heard yells, and a stampede of footsteps heading straight for them. George grabbed Lee by the arm, and dragged him into a hidden passage nearby. They pressed themselves flat against the wall, until the loud torrent had subsided.

"This is insanity." Lee bellowed, turning to face his friend. "I knew fighting a war wouldn't be easy, but I never imagined it'd be anything like this." Lee trailed off, looking around.

"Where's Fred?"

He tried to hide it, but there was a definite note of unease in George's eyes at the question. However, he shrugged, as if it were nothing. "Dunno. We got separated a while ago. I was just looking for him." George peered out from behind the tapestry. "I need to find him." His voice had trailed off into a low whisper. Lee tapped him on the shoulder. "Something wrong?"

George sighed deeply, eyes shifting briefly to Lee, then back out into the corridor "I think so… I just hope I'm wrong."

After a short while, the ruckus outside quieted down to a dull roar of sounds more off into the distance. "Come on. The coast is clear." George led the way out of their hiding place, and sprinted down the corridor - or at least as fast as he could. Lee took note that George was harboring a severe limp, though it didn't seem to deter him. There were more bangs , and Lee took off after him. "Where are we going?"

"Dunno."

"Then why are we going this way?"

"I just have a feeling Fred's down this way." George stated confidently, peering around the next corner. He took off again, heading up the stairs toward the seventh floor.

Lee just rolled his eyes, chasing after George. "Ugh. Twins."

xXx

Bill and Percy were making their way through the halls in silence. Percy had recently just told him what had happened to their younger brother, and was leading Bill to where he was hidden, when they saw Lee sprinting down the halls in a near panic.

"PERCY!"

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Percy grabbed Lee's arms as he ran straight into him, panting. It took him a moment to be able to catch his breath. "It's–it's George. Or Fred, or I dunno- both of them."

"Calm down." Bill said, clapping a hand on Lee's shoulder. "What's happened?" A knot settled in his throat, hoping they hadn't lost George too.

"W-well I-I ran into George about an hour ago. He said he was looking for Fred, and I just followed him and-"

"Hold on." Percy interrupted, the same knot twisting his stomach. "Tell me George didn't find Fred."

Lee stared at him dumbstruck. "Uh- Y-yea. He did."

Bill and Percy exchanged panicked looks.

"I have no clue how he knew, but he found Fred behind this statue and he was-"

"Percy." Bill interrupted him this time, not wanting to hear it again. "Go ahead to the Great Hall, and tell Mum and Dad what's happened. I'll go see to George and try to get him and Fred there."

Percy just stared at Lee, feeling an ice brick settle in his stomach. "I…"

"Percy?" Bill took his shoulders forcing him to look at him. "It's either that, or you can deal with George."

That prospect settled harder than explaining the dilemma to his parents. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. Instead, Percy turned, heading towards the Great Hall.

Bill then turned to Lee. "Lead the way."

Lee nodded, taking off at a dead run. Bill followed at his heels. "I didn't know what else to do. George just went catatonic when he saw Fred. He won't even look at me. I didn't want to leave him, but I had to get help."

"It's fine. Just show me where they are."

They both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of George kneeling next to his brother's body. Bill swallowed at the knot that'd seemed to thicken in his throat. He walked slowly closer to his baby brother, catching Lee's unsure gaze.

Bill knelt next to George, trying to keep his eyes off Fred, and put his arm around his shoulder. "George?" Seeing how his voice came as nothing more than a hoarse croak, Bill cleared his throat. "George? You ok?"

When he didn't get a response, Bill shook him gently. "George?"

For the first time, that he'd seen, George blinked, his eyes shifting upward, before they landed on Bill. "Hey Bill." He croaked softly.

Bill tried to smile, but seemed to accomplish nothing more than a grimace. "You alright?"

George hesitated for a moment, staring through him. "Y-yea. I'm ok." His gaze fell back down to his twin's face. "I think Fred's hurt though."

The lump in Bill's throat dropped straight down to his chest, feeling sharper when it did. He chanced a look at Fred, having to divert his gaze immediately. "What-what makes you say that?"

"I dunno." His voice sounded distant, almost as though he had forgotten how to use it. "I can't get him to wake up."

Bill glanced down at Fred again, finding it much harder to look at George at the moment. He closed his eyes against the sting, trying to fight the urge to cry. Squeezing his shoulder, Bill shook him again. "George? You-know-who's called a cease fire, but we don't know how long it'll last." He squeezed him again, trying to make sure he was listening. "We need to get you and Fred in to safety… ok?"

George's gaze flicked up to Bill, then back to Fred. "Ok."

"Everyone's meeting in the Great Hall. Do you-" Bill cleared his throat. "Do you think you can help me carry him?"

After a moment's silence, George finally nodded. "I think so."

"Good." Bill squeezed his shoulder again, before letting go. He sniffed, wiping his eyes, and looked back down to Fred.

Neither of them moved for a short while. Both stared down at their motionless brother, Lee standing forgotten behind them. His own face burned with tears, but he stood back, feeling he had no right to impose on the brothers.

Bill was fighting every urge to cry. Not feeling like he should in front of George. He breathed in deep, rubbing his eyes again. "Come on George." Avoiding his gaze, Bill inched closer to take one of Fred's arms.

George's teeth ground on his bottom lip, his legs feeling numb.

"George?" Bill asked cautiously, holding Fred close to him, one of his little brother's arms slung over his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

George breathed in deep and started to stand. "Yea." He slid in to take Fred's other arm, unsure of why he was shaking so hard. Perhaps it was the pain from his freshly reset shoulder. Yea, that had to be it. Either way, he wouldn't stand to let that hinder him. He had to get Fred somewhere safe to recover.

"Lee?" Bill asked, glancing back at their unmoving friend. "You coming?"

Lee looked up from his spot on the ground. He felt cold, and confused, his legs not wanting to work. "I-" He had to stop to clear his throat to be able to speak. "I'll be along in a- in a bit. Y-you two go ahead."

xXx

They made it to the Great Hall to have Percy report that no one else in their family had made it back yet. He avoided looking at his brothers in the guise of going out to look for their parents.

They had laid Fred onto one of the many cots Madam Pomfrey had conjured up for the injured. George sat next to him, rubbing his twin's hands between his own. Bill was sitting in a chair a little ways away, trying his best to ignore them. His face was hidden in his hands, still hoping to hide his tears from George.

"Bill!"

Bill's head snapped up to see Fleur had just entered the Great Hall and was running right for him. He stood, crossing the last few feet to hold his wife tightly in his arms.

"Oh, Bill. Thank zee 'eavens yoo are alright."

Bill sniffed, drawing back to kiss her. "Same here, my Love." He traced a hand down the side of Fleur's face and kissed her again.

Fleur's eyes flicked to his face, uncertain. "Bill?" Her fingers brushed under his reddened eyes. "Yoo 'ave been crying. What eez wrong?"

Bill hesitated, feeling the knot forming in his throat again from his restraint. He finally managed to clear it out enough to speak, but only in a dull whisper. "Fred's dead."

The expression in Fleur's face visibly drained straight past her shoulders. "Oh no. Eet can't be." She glanced around the area, until her eyes landed on the twins.

"If only." Bill's eyes burned deeper, his head dropping. Fleur drew him into her arms again.

Any lasting restraints fractured and for the first time Bill allowed himself to fully break down in anguish over losing his baby brother. He clung to his wife, crying audibly into her shoulder. She traced her fingers through his long hair, which had fallen down somewhere amongst the battle. Bill had moved to sit back down, Fleur perched on his lap.

"Bill?" A third hand lay across his shoulder. "Bill, what's wrong?"

Both Bill and Fleur glanced up to see Charlie standing over them, worry etched on his face.

Bill scrubbed at his eyes, making no effect on the tears still trailing from them. Not wanting to explain any further, Bill laid his head into Fleur's shoulder again, and gestured behind him.

Charlie's gaze shifted to where he indicated. It took him a moment to fully register what was going on. "No." His reaction fell, similar to Fleur's, the color draining from his face. "No, he can't… Bill, is he?" But he didn't even have to ask. The answer was painfully obvious.

A short while later, footsteps diverted their attention to Percy's return. "I found Mum and Dad." His eyes flicked up to Fred and George, taking on an odd mix of pain and annoyance. "What is George doing?"

Bill breathed in deep, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "He's trying to warm Fred's hands." Fleur gasped, both her's and Charlie's eyes turning to Bill, then back to the twins. Bill cleared his throat, but found he could no longer speak without his voice cracking. "He's afraid he'll get sick."

Fleur held her husband again, brushing at her own tears.

"What's he thinking? He can't warm Fred's hands. There's no blood flow to them."

"Percy!" Bill's head snapped back up to him. "George is in a very deep state of denial right now. It's best if we just let him think whatever he wants."

"So what, then?" The weight in Percy's chest tightened. "We're supposed to just let George sit there thinking Fred's alive, when he's clearly not?" The thought made him cringe, his eyes flooding with tears again.

"Lower your voice."

"I think he knows." They glanced up at Charlie, whose hand still rested on Bill's arm. "It seems more like he's just trying to hold onto him as long as he can. Maybe if we just gave him a little more time."

"My baby!" Charlie was cut off by their mother running past them. She slowed when she saw Fred, her gaze slowly moving to George. Her heart fell further. "George?" A hand fell onto her son's head, moving onto his shoulder. "George, Honey? Are you ok?"

George glanced up at her, a confused glint in his eyes. "Yea, Mum. I'm fine."

"Oh, Georgie." Molly sat down on the bed, pulling her son into her arms.

George stared back imploringly to his siblings.

"Uh, Mum." Charlie moved closer to pry her arms from around George. "Mind if we have a word." George's eyes lingered on them a moment, before returning to Fred.

The four of them explained to their parents what all had happened. Molly stared back at her son, tears flooding her eyes. Every instinct she had told her to scoop George up into her arms and hold him, while he cried, but her children's story told her to resist this urge. Instead, she melted into holding her husband, breaking down into sobs.

The Great Hall began to slowly fill. The fallen, both dead and injured, lined the beds. All around them were sobs and loud panicked murmurs about what could be happening once the battle had resumed. From the sounds of the surrounding conversations there didn't seem to be any hope left for anyone.

The Weasleys had dissolved into silence that was only broken by their sobs. Each of which wondering how long they could possibly avoid George.

After staring at his younger brother far longer than he realized, Charlie stood and made his way over to the bed. He sat down, sliding an arm around George's shoulder and squeezed him gently. "Hey, George. You holdin up alright?"

George didn't seem to respond as fast as he had before, but nodded slowly. "Yea, I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Charlie shifted his grip to lay George's head down on his shoulder, speaking into the top of his hair. "You just seem like you're upset about something."

George shrugged, eyes still fixed on Fred's face. "I guess I'm just worried about him."

Charlie stared down at Fred as well. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

There was a brief pause after which George whispered, "I guess not."

Charlie's gaze shifted to George again. "What do you mean?"

George sniffed. "I feel kinda funny."

"Funny how?"

"I don't really know." He trailed off in thought. "I feel like… like the inside of my stomach feels cold."

Charlie squeezed him tighter.

"And my hands are kinda numb."

"That's just because you've been rubbing them for so long." He forced a laugh, pulling George's hands from Fred's. "It's ok if his hands get cold, George." Charlie wrapped George's hands in his own, trying to warm where they had lost circulation. "Fred's not going to get sick."

George finally tore his eyes away from Fred, staring up at Charlie. "He's not?"

"No. He's not." Charlie breathed in deep, trying to keep a genuine smile on his face.

George's face seemed to fall further. "Charlie? Have you been crying?"

Charlie felt his blood run cold from the question. His eyes starting to tear up again. "Y-Yea-yea. I have."

"Why?"

"Well." Charlie bit at his lip, trying to stop it from shaking. "Something happened today. Something bad, and because of that I lost someone very dear to me." He rubbed at the stubborn tears. "Now I'm starting to worry that I'm going to lose another one."

George stared blankly at him, almost as if he was going to ask him to elaborate. Then something unexpected happened. George smiled. "It's ok, Charlie. You're not going to lose me."

Charlie's expression fell at the comment. He really hadn't been expecting that. "I'm… Are you sure, George?"

"Yea." George slid his arms around him, hugging his brother. With his head laying on Charlie's shoulder, George stared down at Fred again. His expression slowly started to melt. "Charlie?"

"Yes, George?"

George clenched his shirt in his fingers. "Fred isn't sleeping… is he?"

A knife twisted into Charlie's heart. He squeezed George tighter, pressing his face into the top of his head. "No, George. I'm afraid he's not."

The last statement, from both of them, hung thickly in the air for far longer than anyone could possibly stand. "George?" Charlie rubbed George's arms, which were suddenly feeling colder. "Are you ok?"

George sighed. "Come now, Char. I already told you." He looked up at him, a timid smile touching his lips. "I'm fine."

Charlie felt his heart had stopped dead in his chest. That smile seemed natural. The expressions and the way he held himself seemed completely normal. However, there were no words to express the fear that flooded through Charlie at the look in his baby brother's eyes. The natural brown glow almost seemed to take on a hollow gaze that made them appear black. There was no sorrow. No sense of any form of anguish, or even rage at having lost his twin. There was just nothing shining back at him from those eyes that used to hold so much life.

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_AN: wow, this is gonna be a hard one to get through. I'm already four chapters into writing this, and i have cried for each of them. But i promise it's not gonna be completely sad throughout the whole thing. Just suffer through it, and i promise you rich rewards. plus, i think this is the only story I've ever started where i had everything planned beforehand. woo_


	2. Chapter 1

"There you are." Fred poked his head into the room he and George were currently occupying, at their Aunt Muriel's house. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hiding from me."

George was sitting on the bed closest to the wall, picking at the pillow he was holding. "I'm not."

"Well, come on. Mum says, 'dinner's ready.'"

"I'm not hungry."

Fred wasn't too sure if it was the statement, or the way he said it that made him take a closer look at his twin's demeanor. "Something wrong?"

"No."

With a deep sigh of annoyance, Fred rolled his eyes, closing the door. He made his way around the beds, in silence, and flopped down heavily on the bed. He smacked his lips, lacing his fingers together in his lap, before finally turning to George. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie to me, George. I hate it when you lie to me."

George groaned, banging his head back on the headboard. "Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about some stuff."

Fred didn't seem convinced. "What kinda stuff?"

George shrugged, going back to picking at the pillow. "Just stuff."

Fred's eyes flicked back and forth, from George to the pillow. Finally, he snatched the pillow from his grip and smacked his brother over the head with it.

"Hey." George whined.

"Hey, nothing." Fred tucked the pillow into his own lap, leaning in closer to stare straight into George. "You can't hide from me, and you know it. Now, something's bothering you, and I wanna know what it is."

George sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It's nothing unusual. I've just been thinking about this." He gestured outward with both hands. "Just everything that's been going on. About what we're getting into."

"Yea, and?"

"Fred, we're in the middle of a war. Everything we know is falling apart around us. Plus." George stared off at the wall, his eyes falling sadder. "With everything that's happened. With what happened to Bill. And Dad, a couple years ago. Even back when Ginny got taken over by You-know-who. I mean." He paused briefly. "We lost Moody so fast. If they could get him." George's voice started to trail off, as if playing the rest of the monologue in his head. Fred started to fiddle with the pillow just as George had, failing to notice his brother's fingers moving up towards his ear. "And then... I came so close."

"I know." Fred cleared his throat. An uneasy sensation settled in at the memory of seeing George laying there with blood pouring from his head. Fearing the worst, and then how relieved he was to see he was still alive.

George sighed, finally looking back at Fred. "I guess it's all finally starting to sink in. I'm just thinking that any one of us could go at any time. And we'd never see it coming." He bit his lip, rubbing at his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice sounded almost hoarse. "I'm scared, Fred."

Fred stared down at the pillow. Both quiet for a few moments. "I'm scared too. But, George." He tossed the pillow on the ground, and moved one leg up on the bed to face his brother better. "When did you start worrying so much about this kinda stuff?"

George shrugged. "I guess it's never felt this real before."

"Yea, but, you don't need to start now. You're gonna drive yourself mad thinking too much about what could or could not happen. It's best to just live while ya can. Right?" Fred smiled brightly to his twin, hoping to get one back. When he didn't, he smacked George on the leg. "Besides, I'm still convinced that you only lost your ear because we were separated."

George eyed him quizzically "What?"

"Well, think about it." Fred folded his other leg in, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Any time any one of us gets hurt, we're always apart." When George didn't seem to get it, Fred smacked him in the leg again. "Like that time I broke my arm in about five different places."

George stopped to think for a moment, then a small smile found his lips. "When I dislocated my knee."

"When I got bit by that Runespoor."

"I was there?"

"You were?" Fred thought, his brow furrowed. "I could've sworn it was just Ron and Charlie."

George shook his head. "No. Remember, I dismembered the little bugger for it."

"Well, maybe that was another time. Either way, I'm getting off topic. My point is, that we just need to stick together. When it comes down to it, if we stay together we can watch each other's backs and nothing bad can possibly happen."

George just eyed him skeptically. "What makes you think that can change anything?"

"Simple. Because we're Fred and George Weasley." He clapped his brother on the shoulders. "We can do anything. There isn't anyone or anything that can possibly beat us down."

Despite the confidence radiating from that ever present grin, George was still uncertain.

Fred groaned, sitting back. His grin quirked into a thoughtful smirk. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

"I just don't think you can know these things for sure. We're going into a war, Fred. We've been lucky, so far, but anything could happen."

"O-k. How about I make you a vow to protect you?"

George started, at the offer, cocking a brow at him. "What do you mean? Like an Unbreakable Vow?"

Fred started to say yes, then thought about it for a moment. "Well… no. Maybe not that extreme. I don't fancy to drop dead if you stub your toe or something."

Too deep in thought, he failed to notice the smile to cross George's lips at the comment, as he shook his head.

"I got it." Fred slung his legs over the side of the bed. He darted to the dresser, fishing around in one of the top drawers. "Let's say we do this old school." He located his old potions kit, drawing out the small silver dagger. The one typically used to chop up the ingredient for their products.

George's eyes widened on the dagger, uncertain of what could be going on in his twin's mind. Fred leapt back onto the bed. He grasped George's right hand, cutting a line diagonal across his palm. George hissed at the cut. "Is this your idea of keeping me from getting hurt?"

"Maybe." Releasing George's hand, he proceeded to cut a line across his own. It wasn't until Fred held his hand out to him that George finally recognized what he was doing. It was a rather ancient form of the Unbreakable Vow. One that could be broken without such dire consequences but still just as binding.

A blood oath.

"I, Fred Weasley, vow to do everything within my power to protect you, George Weasley, from harm."

George couldn't help but laugh. Not only from the odd fluctuation he had when saying their names, but just the knowledge that Fred was being so serious, and taking this to such extremes.

"You're something else." George stated, but took his brother's hand, allowing the cuts to cross. He said his side and an odd warm tingle spread through their fingers, and on up both of their arms.

Fred smiled at the notion that George was finally starting to relax again. He used the grip he still had on his arm and pulled him into a hug. "You need to stop worrying so much. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

George was pulled from his musings by a loud bang outside of his office. His thoughts had been drawn back in time, fingers tracing along the scar still lining his palm. He could almost see the red x their joined hands had created.

xXx

Bill and Charlie entered through the door into Weasley's Wizard Weezes to find it packed with customers young and old. "Wow." Bill stated, as they tried to worm their way through the crowd in search of George. "I can't believe there's so many people still coming here."

"Yea. Me either." Charlie said, though a bit less impressed than Bill had been.

Since Fred's death, George seemed to have completely lost the use of his voice. He'd stopped talking to anyone, and proceeded to bury himself in work to avoid contact with his family and friends. The only person he ever really communicated with anymore was his elder brother, Charlie. On occasion maybe Bill, but not as often. It was this fact that drove their mother to send the two of them to talk to George today.

They made their way up to the third landing, overlooking the rest of the store. Charlie pulled out his wand and set off a loud bang, complete with yellow sparks. The whole of the store fell silent, all eyes turning up towards him. Charlie raised his hands as if making a proclamation. "May I have everyone's attention, please?" He spoke loudly, his voice carrying to every inch of the store. "Weasley's Wizard Weezes will be closing in approximately ten minutes. Will everyone please make their final purchases, and kindly exit the store. Thank you."

"Whoa, whoa, hold up here." There was the sound of a door shutting, from behind them, and soon George came marching out of his office, and on down from the upper level to meet them. "What do you think you're doing?" George waved a hand out over the crowd. "Everyone just ignore him. The store is not closing anytime soon."

Charlie stepped up to meet his brother, drawing himself up to his full height, even though he was probably only a couple inches taller than George. "No, I think you'll find it is." The level of his voice sounded as if he was speaking out to the crowd, but it was clear his statement was directed towards George.

A dull murmur started from a small portion of the store. Most of the patrons didn't fully know what was going on. Some began to put their merchandise back, all eyes fixed onto the upper landing.

"You have no right to come in here and close my store." George growled.

"I think you'll find that there's an exception for today."

"Why the hell is today any different?"

"You know why." Charlie snapped, impatiently. "And, frankly, I'm appalled that your store's even open today."

"What's the big deal?" George growled, his teeth clenched. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

"You do too."

"No, I don't." George spat, his annoyance rising just as high as Charlie's. "I've already had this conversation with Mum, and I don't feel like having it with you." George turned to try and leave, but found Bill had made his way around, and up the other side of the landing, blocking him in. "You're not going anywhere, but with us."

George's hands clenched at his sides. "I already told you, I'm not going."

"George, you're not missing Fred's funeral!" Bill snapped, losing his patients.

A deafening silence fell over the store. A lot of the people in the store were regulars who had gotten to know the twins fairly well in their visits. A few were even friends from their days at school. Those that knew Fred, but didn't know he was dead, felt a cold shock settle in on them. The ones that didn't really know either of them quickly grasped the concept of what was going on. Though nobody knew the funeral was today.

Charlie cast an awkward glance to the numerous eyes staring up at them. He made his way over, sliding his hands on George's shoulders, and spoke low for just Bill and George to hear him. "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else."

Bill's eyes wondered from George up to Charlie, then out to the crowd. Understanding dawned on him. "Yea, maybe."

"There's nothing to talk about." George was looking back at Charlie, his hollow eyes unreadable. His brother's both more shocked that George wasn't shouting at them, though he didn't bother to lower his voice. "I've told you all numerous times that I'm not going."

"George." Bill sighed. "You have to go."

George's head turned towards him. "Why?"

"Because he's your brother." They both spoke, their voices more pleading now than anything.

"You don't think I know that?" It was highly unnerving to hear George speak in such a dull monotone, that almost everyone (even the voyeurs) secretly wished he would start yelling. "We were stuck together for nineteen years. Do you really think I wouldn't realize he was my brother? That might explain why he looked just like me."

Bill looked slightly dumbstruck by George's sass, and was about to say something when Charlie spoke first. "George, I know this must be hard on you."

George just sighed in annoyance. He'd heard this from far too many people.

"But this is the last chance we could get." He squeezed his shoulders a little tighter. "Fred died so suddenly. This is our last chance to finally say good-bye to hm."

George finally pulled away, rounding on his second brother. "And what's the point in that? It's not like he can even hear us anymore. You said it yourself, 'he's dead!'"

Another silence fell over the small store. The only sound was the last two words still ringing through the air. Every eye was fixed on George in shock. Even George looked slightly alarmed with having said it. His dark eyes sparking briefly to their natural state.

George's gaze fell, his grip tightening around the wand in his pocket. He sighed, then turned, not to address his brothers, but the customers who were still gawking wide-eyed at him. "Sorry about this, everyone. Just, go back to whatever you were doing." Without giving either of his brothers time to stop him, George pushed past Bill and ran up the smaller flight leading to his office. Rather than expectantly slamming the door, he closed it gently. A small click indicating it was locked.

A timid rumble began to rise from the customers in the store. Most people didn't seem to know what to do, standing in shock at what had just happened. Though a majority respectfully began to put their merchandise back on the shelves and made a b-line for the door.

Bill and Charlie exchanged almost hopeless looks. Bill took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Mum's not gonna let us come back without him."

"I'll go talk to him. Try to see if you can get everybody out of the store."

Bill nodded reproachfully, making his way down to the customers. Charlie turned and headed up the stairs. He knocked on the door, leaning his head against it. "George, can I come in?" He could almost see George rolling his eyes at the prospect of them not leaving him alone, but no verbal response came.

The rumbling dulled some as a few heads turned up to Charlie. However, it'd be impossible for them to hear him.

Charlie tried the handle in the off chance he had misunderstood the clicks, but the door was indeed locked. "George, I just want to talk to you. I wanna find out what's going on." When he didn't get a response again, Charlie turned the handle a little more forcefully. "Ok, it's your choice. You can either open this door yourself, or I will. I don't wanna have to do that, but I will." Again, he waited for a response, then banged on the door. "George, can you hear me?"

A soft click, and the door opened a few inches to let George look out. "Yea, I can hear you."

Charlie tilted his head to look at George. "Can I come in?"

"Don't know why you're asking. It's not like I can stop you." He walked away, allowing Charlie to enter behind him.

George made his way over to perch on top of what Charlie was to assume was his desk, and started fiddling with the wand in his hands. "I've already told you guys that I don't want to go. Why can't you just respect that?"

Charlie closed the door and locked it back. He then made his way over and pulled the chair from beneath the desk and sat down. "Well, why don't you try explaining to me why you don't want to go."

George just shrugged, staring very intently at the thin stick between his fingers.

Charlie sighed, leaning forward in the chair. "How about this. I'm going to make a guess as to why you don't want to go, and you tell me whether or not I'm wrong. If I am wrong, tell me the real reason and I'll decide whether or not it's good enough."

George gave a small snort. "Sounds a little one–sided, but fine. Give me your best shot, Char."

"Ok." Charlie clapped his hands together, taking a deep breath to try and steady himself enough to explain. "Remember when you first found out?" It didn't quite work. Charlie tried to force his voice not to shake. "You seemed so convinced that Fred was just sleeping, that you just sat there waiting for him to wake up."

George's hands clenched further around the wand. Charlie noted the slight change in his breathing, and dropped a hand on his knee. His voice dropped as well. "I think that a part of you still wants to hold onto that. Maybe you're still in denial about what really happened to Fred and you think that." Charlie tried to clear away the knot that had formed in his throat. "That by going to-to the funeral you're finally forcing yourself to accept it. And maybe you're not ready for that, I dunno, but I can't let you miss this."

George's gaze had fallen further. He let out another snort. "I don't think I can ever fully accept it." He paused slightly, in which Charlie was about to speak, but was cut off when George finally looked up at him again. "But you're wrong."

##

_AN: This entire story, though specifically this chapter was actually a whole series of events that kept popping into my head, that i thought would work well if i threw them together. Hope it actually makes sense like that. Plus, at the beginning there, i really wanted Fred and George to do that whole 'you're blood, my blood, our blood' thing from Practical Magic. I'm also having a lot of trouble writing George. Every time i read back over this, he never seems to have the right feel to his character that i was intending, and i don't know how to fix it._


	3. Chapter 2

Charlie was shortly taken aback by the announcement. He stared at his little brother, trying to decipher whether or not he was lying and just didn't want to admit it. "Is that so?"

George turned his attention back to the wand in his hands. "Yes, it is."

Charlie was still a bit unsure, but figured it wasn't worth worrying about. "Ok, then." He clapped his hands together, leaning forward in his seat. "Then why don't you enlighten me."

George sighed, closing his eyes. "If you really must know, it's because there'll be too many people there."

Charlie cocked a brow at him. "Because there's what? You can't be serious."

George's eyes narrowed on him. "Of course I'm serious. I don't want to be around anyone." His gaze fell back to the wand. "Everyone just expects me to be some miserable ball crying in the corner. They all look at me as if I'm broken, when I'm not. I'm sick of the way people look at me, and I don't want to have to sit through today and have people stare at me and tell me how sorry they are for something they didn't even do. I'm just sick of dealing with it."

Charlie thought about what he said for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I see your point. I guess having people assume how you should be reacting can be annoying. But, that's not a very good reason."

George scoffed. "Figured you'd say that."

Charlie smacked his leg. "But I'll tell ya what. If you agree to go, I'll stick with you. Now, I can't promise I can stop people from staring, but I'll try and make sure no one talks to you."

George sighed.

"George, listen to me." Charlie pulled the chair in closer, leaning on the desk. "You can't not go. If you miss Fred's funeral I know you'll regret it. Maybe not now, but one day you will. When you do it's going to hurt, and I'm not just going to sit back and let you do that to yourself."

George was refusing to look at him. He still wasn't too keen on going, but was at least weighing his options. "You'll keep everyone away from me?"

"I will keep everyone away from you."

George was silent for a moment longer. "Even Mum?"

Charlie smiled. "Especially Mum."

George sighed deeply, finally conceding "Fine. I'll go."

xXx

To be fair, it wasn't specifically Fred's funeral. The ceremony was a joint memorial service for everybody that lost their lives that day. (Afterwards, the families would take the fallen to do as they wish.) It was held at Hogwarts. Numerous rows of chairs were placed on the banks of the lake. The coffins of the fallen lined up in the front. A timid silence settled through the growing crowd of mourners, only disrupted but subtle murmurs and sobs.

Molly Weasley was sitting in a chair towards the back of the row, crying into her husband's shoulder. She seemed rather oblivious to her surroundings, until Arthur rubbed her arm to try and get her attention. "Molly, dear, look."

She breathed in deep, trying to steady herself. Then, following his indication and the looks of the rest of her family, Molly saw the last of her sons making their way over. Each having changed into deep black dress robes.

Before anyone really had time to react, Molly had risen and sprinted over to them, throwing her arms around George. She sobbed audibly into his neck exclaiming her joy at seeing that he had come.

George tensed, looking imploringly to his brother for help.

"Uh, Mum." Charlie clamped him mother on the shoulders, coaxing her off. "I need to talk to you." He led her a few steps away, and explained what he had promised George in place of him coming. Molly looked appalled at the idea, her mouth hanging open. "But." She chanced a glance at George, who was trying not to look at her, rubbing his arms. To the outside he appeared lost, but was really just a bit ashamed of denying his mum a chance to unleash her mother bear tendencies on him.

George made his way over to sit down with the rest of his family, though he was a few seats down from where Harry had his arm around Ginny. Nearly every eye in the row turned to him. In fact it seemed as if Percy and Ron were more determined to avoid looking at him. To be honest, he wasn't fully sure which was worse.

Bill sat down next to Fleur, and soon Molly and Charlie made their way over to join in, Charlie taking the vacant seat between George and everyone else. As much as he tried to resist, George's gaze shifted to the others. He caught Harry's eye, and could have sworn he saw his lips form the words, 'I'm sorry.'

George tried not to growl, but could not keep from rolling his eyes as he turned back to look ahead. He scooted down in the seat so that Charlie blocked him from view of the rest of the family.

George was relieved when an elderly wizard got up and started to address the crowd. Mainly because all eyes fell on him instead. The elderly wizard spoke loudly to the mourners about why they were here, as if they didn't know, and George ignored him. To some extent, he still felt as if he was only here because he was forced to. Even still, a small part of his mind was wondering if Fred would've really wanted him here. George fiddled with the stem of a white rose, which they had passed out to everyone, watching as the blossom spun on his command. At long last, the elderly wizard said something that caught his attention. Something about not mourning the dead. "We should not feel sadness over these lost souls, but rather pride. Pride at the brave sacrifice they took to defend us. To protect their family, their loved ones, and our world."

George distinctly heard his mother sob louder, but an odd thought crossed his mind. Was that maybe the reason why he hadn't cried? Was he proud of Fred?

"I now extend an invitation to anyone who feels compelled to offer a few words of honor to these brave souls."

There wasn't an immediate response until, to George's surprise, Neville stood and made his way to the platform. He took a deep breath to steady his breathing, as tears still trailed from his eyes. His voice was still slightly shaky when he finally spoke, but it was clear that his resolve to stay calm overpowered it. Neville had known almost everyone that was up there, and spoke boldly about each of them. About how each of them were such good friends and people. He mentioned how Remus was such a great teacher. About how he believed in him when most others wouldn't even bother. He talked about how Colin Creevey was always so happy and upbeat no matter what anyone would say or do to him, even if he was, at times, less than tolerable.

Harry let out a sort of mournful laugh that seemed a touch remorseful

"And Fred." Neville had been walking in front of the coffins, and stopped in front of Fred's. He sniffed loudly, wiping away his tears. "What a character." A small portion of the crowd let out a strangled laugh. "I always admired how he always seemed so confident. That he knew where he was going and how he would get there. By example, Fred started to make me believe that anything was possible. All you had to do was believe it was."

There were renewed sobs coming from George's right, and a few eyes swiveled around towards him, but he ignored them. A broad smile had spread across his face at hearing Neville's words. In a sense, he was starting to hope that maybe that 'example' had helped Neville along with finally boosting his confidence enough to assist in his spell performance.

After a few more words, Neville laid the white rose on Fred's coffin, thanked the crowd for listening, and returned to his seat.

Slowly, but surely, more and more people made their way to the front to offer their condolences and say something about the numerous people who had fallen. To George's dismay, there were many of them up there that he didn't really know all that well.

No one in his family seemed too compelled to go up and say something, but numerous eyes fell back onto him expectantly. Even Charlie glanced over at him.

However, it wasn't any of them that made him want to step up. It almost felt as if someone was pushing at his back to go up and say something for his fallen twin, but he couldn't think of anything significant, that hadn't already been said. Finally, whatever was urging him gave one more big push and, before he knew it, George was on his feet making his way up to the front.

His mind was a complete blank all the way up, and for the first time ever, anxiety set in about being in front of a crowd. George made his way along the coffins, clutching the rose in one hand, and the magical microphone in the other. He scanned the faces of the fallen, turning to face the crowd before he got to Fred. Every eye was fixed on him, and an almost nostalgic glint hit his chest. George cleared his throat, licking his dry lips. "For those of you who, somehow, don't know, I'm George Weasley." His spirits lifted subtly with a small snort of laughter, his eyes scanning to find Lee a few rows in. George jammed a thumb back to Fred. "That one was my brother." He choked slightly, clearing his throat again, mumbling quickly. "Is my brother." A firm warmth spread through his chest, and George's voice finally felt stronger. "In a lot of ways I agree with-" He paused slightly, motioning to the elderly wizard that had started the proceeding "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The wizard waved a hand, as if to say it didn't matter.

"Well, yea. These people wouldn't want us spending every waking moment crying because of them. They die- *ahem* they gave everything for their loved ones to live long happy lives. To bring down a great evil so we could be safe. We should be praising these sacrifices, not mourning them. And especially not feeling sorry for them, or throwing blame around for who did it, or what any of us could have done to prevent it." George paused, breathing in deep. His voice was growing aggravated and more snappish, and he didn't want to allow himself to get angry, when most people wouldn't even know what he was talking about. He opened his eyes again, his voice weakening a touch. "That being said, I guess it's not fair to say that any of us shouldn't be hurting. That we shouldn't allow ourselves to be sad from the thought of having these people, who are so dear to us, taken away so suddenly. Some never even getting a real chance to live." His eyes flitted a few caskets down to Colin. "It's absurd to think that we can't miss them. I know I'm going to miss Fred." His gaze fell down to the rose he was crushing in his hands. "It's hard to think that I'll never be able to see my other half again, and I know that thought can hurt. All I want is to know that it's ok to cry for them, but still be able to remember what they did for us to live." George finally looked back at Fred, almost forgetting that there was anyone else even there. He really did still look like he was sleeping. "I'm proud to have someone so brave as my brother." George willed the rose to repair itself, feeling the bloom spread against his palm, and laid it next to Fred's head. His hand lingered a bit, brushing at the long red hairs resting against the silk pillow. "I love you, Fred."

George was silent for a short while, staring down at his twin's docile face. With a start, the memory that he was standing in front of a large crowd, all of whose eyes were fixed on him, George finally turned away from his twin. He hesitated briefly, and cleared his throat. "So, yea. I-I feel like I'm just talking in circles now, so I'm gonna stop." He started back down the side of the stage, feeling an odd cold seizing his torso. "Th-thank you." George handed the mike back to the elderly wizard, who patted him on the arm as he walked by, and headed back towards his family at the back of the crowd.

Making a split second decision, George stepped up his pace and walked on past his family, and away from the scene. A few people called back to him, but he ignored them, wishing deeply that he could just apparate. His heart was racing, breathing fast, almost as if he were running. It was only a short while later that George fully realized that he was running. Upon registering this, he started to slow down, his pace falling into a quick trot. George had made his way to the castle, and burst through the large oak doors into the Entrance Hall. (Or rather he would if they were still there.) His feet finally slowed down enough until he was stopped. Panting for breath, George dropped a hand to the wall next to the Great Hall, his head hanging low.

A dull rumble, in the corridor slowly started to grow louder. George's head snapped up to look around. The broken stones repaired themselves before his eyes, and shadows began to appear in the halls. Students filed in through the Entrance Hall as if on their way to class or their common room. George dropped his head again, feeling it pounding in his ears, but the roar of voices didn't seem to subside. The laughter of the students soon dissolved into screams. Screams of pain, of horror, and even yells from what sounded like a battle.

Flashes of light pressed through his clenched eyes, burning them from the bright light and fear that that they carried.

He couldn't breath, and his heart beat so fast it felt as if it was going to burst through his chest. A hand came up to pull his tie loose, hoping to stop the constriction on his wind pipe. A dull roar seemed to push from the ache in his head to fill his ears. George groaned against the ache, his hands clamping over his ears, wishing it would just stop.

Out of nowhere, a hand fell onto his shoulder. "Hey, George. You ok?"

"Fred?" George's head snapped up again to see who was there. All at once, the voices stopped. The shadows faded away, and whoever had spoken to him was dissolving in a swirl of black and red before he could really see whom it was. He was alone again, a deafening silence surrounding him. Only broken by the light throbbing of his head.

George shook, feeling his heart was beating too fast for his ribs to contain. He slumped onto the ground, dropping his head into his hands. He didn't know what had just happened, or even really why, but it scared him. Illusions happening all around him, and out of nowhere, he kept hearing Fred's voice. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't these things just leave him alone? At times he felt like he was going mad. Like his brain had been thrown out of balance.

Another noise disrupted his musing, though considerably much quieter than the horde of students. Not completely sure why, George got to his feet and started following the noise. His brain didn't fully register where he was going, but, somehow, it seemed really familiar. More so than any other part of the school.

George stopped abruptly when he discovered the noise was coming from a place he knew all too well. He was standing outside of Filch's office. However, that didn't startle him nearly as much as what he heard. The odd noise was now coherent as crying. George slumped against the wall, next to the door to his office, listening. He brushed at a chill in his arms, feeling a mix of pity, and an odd twinge of fear. What could possibly be making Filch cry like that? Almost as if to respond, George's eyes snapped to the door at hearing his name… or at least his last name.

The cracked door creaked open and Mrs. Norris slid out, and sat down in front of George, looking up at him with those bright lamp-like eyes. Once again, a first time phenomenon had clicked in his brain. Even though there wasn't much chance of him getting in trouble for it, he did not have a compelling urge to kick this cat.

"What is it?" Filch called out, in a hoarse croak.

Mrs. Norris mewled in response, half standing. Soon, the door fully opened, and Filch came out. His dark eyes were red and puffy, and they flew wide at the sight of George standing outside of his office. "What the hell are you doing here?" He croaked again, sounding as if he had a bad head cold, a strong smell of rum on his breath.

George just stared back at him, the pity increasing. "You really were crying." He spoke softly, but Filch jumped as if he had slapped him.

"What? Why would I be crying?"

"That's what I was wondering." George's gaze fell thoughtfully to the ground. "I heard you say. 'Weasley'." He looked back up at him with an expression of mild curiosity. "Were you actually crying for Fred?"

Filchs' entire body went rigid. "No." He snapped, probably a little louder than he meant to, but him yelling was something George was used to. "You and that brother of yours have been nothing but a pain in my ass from day one. Why would I be crying because of that delinquent!" Without even waiting for a response, Filch turned back into his office, slamming the door before his beloved Mrs. Norris could follow.

"Maybe you like us more than you let on." George glanced down at the cat mewling for her master to open the door and smiled. "We did make your life exciting."

There was silence on the other side of the door, then finally it opened, and Filch leaned back out to look at him. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be outside with the others?"

George's smile fell. His eyes flitted to the opposite wall. "I just wanted to be alone. My family dragged me to the ceremony in the first place, but I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to leave." George's legs started to feel weak, until they finally gave way and he slumped to the ground. "I got up and said something for Fred, but then I just had to get out of there. I couldn't stand being around all those people anymore. All of them crying for their loved ones… when I can't." His head fell further, almost wondering if he had imagined Filch asking him, "What?"

"I want to, but I can never seem to. I miss Fred, but for some reason I haven't been able to cry once for him."

There was a silence between them, and George almost wondered if Filch had retreated back into his office while he was speaking.

"I'm sure he misses you too."

George's head snapped up, to look at Filch, but he was staring down at his cat. "I've been around the dead for a long time now. Most of them seem to be so full of regret and longing for the people they left behind." A crease formed between his brow, and he looked as if he'd start crying again. "Even though he's not a ghost, I'll bet it'd be the same. I mean, you were the closest to him."

There was silence between them for a few seconds more, then George did something neither of them expected… he started to laugh.

Filch glared at him. "What's so funny?"

George had to drop a hand to the ground to keep himself from falling over. To be honest, he didn't fully know why he found it so funny. "You're a mystery, y'know that, Filch."

Filch's glare shifted to a snarl. "That's not answering my question."

"I was always under the impression that you hated us, but here you are, crying for Fred, and trying to comfort me." He had to take a few seconds to catch his breath. "Are you sure you're the same Filch we used to know?"

Filch's already puffy cheeks reddened further. "Well, fine then! I don't even know why I try with you miscreants It's not like you're ever going to grow up." With that, he swept back into his office, making sure Mrs. Norris had followed him in before slamming the door behind him.

A small brush of guilt swept over him, but George couldn't stop laughing, as he laid a hand against the door. "No, Filch, I didn't mean it like that. Everything that's been going on is just really weird, and you just added to it. I've never seen you sympathetic to anyone." He waited for some kind of response, but wasn't surprised to not hear one. The final bits of his laughter had died down, and he sighed. "Filch, I'm sorry. Not just for laughing, but for everything. Everything Fred and I ever did to you." George stopped to think for a bit. "Well, most of it. Some of it. You siding with Umbridge was kind of a low blow, but you didn't deserve all of it." George slumped back on the wall, resting his arms on his knees. "I can only imagine what it feels like to be a Squib in a school surrounded by kids who can do magic, when you never could. It must suck."

"I don't need your sympathy." Filch snapped from behind the door.

George sighed again, curling his legs in further. "Doesn't mean I can't still be sorry. Besides… life's too short to hold a grudge." He waited for a bit longer, in silence. Determining it was a lost cause, George started to get up. "Fine." He dusted himself off, suddenly realizing how cold the floor was. "I'll leave you alone then."

George dug his hands deep into his pockets and started down the hall, when he heard the door open. He turned to see a hand emerge from the cracked door, and set a brown bottle onto the floor with a dull clink. Filch closed the door again, leaving George stunned. Slowly, he made his way back and picked the bottle up to examine it. It was an unopened bottle of spiced rum. Not a particular favorite, but that's not what interested him.

"I swear it's not poisoned." Filch called, his head sounding stuffy again.

George's eyes flicked up to the door, then back down at the bottle. A small smile touched his lips. "Thanks, Filch." With that, George slid the bottle in his pocket and started down the hall again.

_##_

_AN: I can't really explain it, but i wanted them to have a moment. Not completely friends, but an almost understanding of the other's pain. And yes, Filch was crying because of Fred, and probably a few others. My logic is that love and hate is a very thin line, and i believe somewhere in there, he does care for the twins. Sure he hates them, but doesn't really want either of them dead, no matter how many death threats he's most likely made. On the other hand (i was playing around with this idea for when George was called to the school to discuss his son's actions, but felt it worked here.) I figured that George has grown up quite a bit since school. He sees that he and Fred were being rather cruel to Filch, and, although he probably deserved some of what he got, wasn't the type of guy to fully warrant that much hatred. So, yea. (also i freaking love movie Filch, so i wanted to let up on him a bit)_


	4. Chapter 3

George continued on through the halls, the echoing of his shoes the only sound that could be heard reverberating off the wall. It was actually pretty relaxing. Everything felt normal to him, in this state. Which was rather strange considering a good chunk of the castle was still destroyed, parts still wanting to crumble around him.

A hoot sounded behind him, and George spun around in time to see two figures fly by him, supported by brooms.

"Let's show these Death Eaters why we're the best Beaters this school's ever seen." Fred's voice echoed in his head.

George smiled. "Yea." He took off after the two figures, a sense of glee swelling in his chest. Even though he couldn't catch them, his mind seemed to fast forward to see himself and Fred zoom out of the castle, whacking enemies with their clubs as they went along. They shot spells off, when it was necessary, but it was far more fun to hit people. Maybe a little more gratifying than it really should have been.

The dark sky did well enough to shadow them, but some Death Eaters eventually began to get annoyed with their antics, and started shooting spells off to dismount the two brothers. They split off from each other to avoid an array of spells. George's eyes seemed to split to watch both the Death Eaters and Fred. After all this time, it was almost a instinctual reaction.

A red jet of light shot up and hit the club in Fred's hand, dissolving it instantly. Fred's wand hand reacted immediately to stun the offending Death Eater.

George was jerked out of his mind-set by something hitting the front of his broom. The tip veered upwards, nearly knocking him off, as another jet flew right for him.

"PROTEGO!" He heard Fred cry, and the spell stopped just short of hitting him.

George flipped the broom around, and managed to maintain his altitude, his heart pounding with the sudden upheaval.

"George, you ok?" Fred started to make his way over, when a large hand snapped up and seized him around the legs, crushing the broom into his thighs. He shouted, firing off a stinger into the giants eye. The spell had little if no effect on the giant, except to make him (or her, it's difficult to tell) angrier. The giant added it's second hand to the fist, and squeezed harder. Fred screamed, but George was already full tilt toward them. He drew his arm back, and flung the club at the beast as hard as he could. Which, factoring the strength he had gained in his arm after playing Quidditch for so long, was pretty hard. The club slammed into the side of the giants head, not knocking it fully over, but enough to snap it's head to the side. It's grip loosened, and Fred fell through his fingers. George zoomed over, catching his twin a little ways down.

George could feel Fred's head resting against his shoulder. A sense of dread broke through him. "Say something."

"Something." Fred snarked.

George laughed lightly, flying up for the nearest opening he could find to the castle. "What have I told you about being careful?"

"Like you're one to talk."

George made it up to the Astronomy Tower in time to see the two figures land. He saw Fred stumble a bit, when he climbed off the broom. His legs were weak, and George made forward to help him.

He clapped a hand on Fred's shoulder. "Perhaps we should keep our feet on the ground for a while."

"Yea, sure."

The brief moment of peace was broken up by a large shock-wave. Fred slammed against one of the turrets, but George tumbled over the side. He managed to catch himself, hearing something shatter as a sharp pain piercing his arm from his full weight hitting the joint. His head thrown into a haze, he caught a quick glimpse of his wand disappearing into the dark ground below.

"George!" Fred's voice carried over the side, causing George to look upwards. "I'm here."

Fred's head snapped over the side. He looked panicked, but George was too relieved to let the panic carry to him. "I dropped my wand."

"I don't care." Fred leaned over the side, reaching a hand down to him. "Grab my hand."

George was a little ways down the side. He had to pull up on his sore arm to reach his twin's hand, but he grasped for him, their fingers latching just enough to pull their grasps fully together.

George had just let go of the wall, when he felt his hand slip from his brother's grip. Someone had cried, "Crucio." And Fred started screaming, no longer able to keep hold of George's hand.

A moments hesitation, where everything seemed to stop, and George started to fall. The rush of falling, of not knowing where or what he was going to land into, made his heart race again. George fished around in his pockets, pulling out a wand. He wasn't sure where it came from, but it didn't matter all that much, at the moment. Pointing the wand at himself, George shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The spell didn't always work on humans, but his clothes were another matter, and it was far easier to control than Aresto Momentum. The sky around him slowly started to grow lighter, as his robe seemed to cradle his body and lower him to the ground.

George landed, panting for a moment, his arm coming up to rest against his sore shoulder. It felt like it had slipped out of place, but considering he could still move it, there wasn't as much call to think it had.

Gingerly, George got to his feet, staring down at the cool green grass bend in the gentle wind. He felt confused. A little dizzy about what was happening. A scream broke his train of thought, and George's head snapped up towards the top of the tower in a panic. Clouds swirled back around the sky, shadowing the tower in a dark haze. "Fred."

"George!" Someone broke in at his side, throwing their arms around him. George vaguely registered who it was, before shoving her off and taking off at a dead run, back into the castle.

"George? George, where are you going?"

"I have to get to the Astronomy Tower."

There was a rapid click of heels behind him, indicating that she was following him. "What for?"

"Fred's in trouble. I have to get back up there." His urgency made him speed up to where he couldn't even hear her protests. After all, it didn't matter. There was nothing she could possibly say to keep him from going to his brother's aid.

George finally reached the Astronomy Tower, and stopped dead in his tracks. No one was there. Fred's screaming died down, and no one could be seen in the tower. Overhead, the dark sky began to clear, until the sun shone over him... but he wasn't here.

George's feet carried him over to the edge of the tower, his hands falling against one of the turrets. He stared at his hands in confusion, just starting to realize how short of breath he was. What was going on? He was here a moment ago. Where did he go? Why did he leave? How could he?

"I only had one job. I was supposed to be there for you, when you needed me. I was supposed to protect you." George's gaze shifted out more towards the sky. "But I wasn't there. When you needed me most, I wasn't there for you." His eyes closed, head falling again. "I'm sorry, Fred."

"I'm sure he understands." Hands slid over his shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck. "You fell. There was nothing you could do. Frankly, I'm amazed you survived."

George turned around to look back at Angelina. Her eyes were red and swollen, but it was strange to still think she was so beautiful, even with her features twisted in mourning. She was wearing black dress robes, a deep violet rose pinned at the base of the hair, which was held up in a sort of honeycomb shape. Angelina wrapped her arms around George again, laying her head against his chest. "You need to be more careful, George. I can't lose you too."

George's face fell, holding her tightly to him. As deep as his desire was for him to be alone, Angelina seemed to be the only person he felt he could tolerate. The only one he felt could ever stand a chance at fully understanding him. They'd spent so much time together, that she almost seemed a part of their duo.

Angelina sniffed softly, and George held her tighter, running his hands along her back. There was so many things he wanted to tell her, but he knew he coldn't. There was no way for it to ever work. After all, Fred beat him to it.

"George!" George had just enough time to look up and see a flash of red, before a pair of arms were thrown around him, knocking Angelina away. "Oh George, my boy, what happened?" Molly pushed him back to look at his face. "First you run off like that, then we see you fall off the tower." She shook him slightly, beginning to yell in hysterics. "What's going on with you! Do you want to get yourself killed too?"

George stared back at his mother thunderstruck. He really didn't seem to understand the question well enough to think of a logical response. Soon, Molly's face twisted in anguish again. She threw her arms around George, and bawled unhindered. George glanced around to see his father and Charlie standing in the doorway, each looking nearly as distraught as his mother. There were signs of other heads trying to poke around their shoulders to see them, but he couldn't tell nor did he really care who it was.

"And don't you dare tell me I can't hug you." Molly scolded, clutching tighter to her son. George glanced down at her, the sense of guilt settling over him again. He really was being unfair to her, and the rest of the family. "I'm sorry, Mum." When George's head fell down on her shoulder, and his arms wrapped around to hold her, she sobbed harder, pulling him in with near crushing force. "Oh, Georgie. You just need to trust us more, dear." Molly pulled back, cupping George's face in between her hands. "We're still a family." George could almost hear the underlining, 'Just not a complete one.' and his hands started to shake. "And we're in this together."

All the confidence George was feeling earlier seemed to drain out of him. He felt more confused and unsure than he ever had before, in his life. She didn't seem to get it. It's not that he didn't trust any of them. He just found it hard to be around them a large chunk of the time. Most of the time it felt as though they didn't trust him. Like they thought he was going to do something stupid or crazy. He wouldn't ever do anything like that. They should know better.

"George, honey?" George glanced up to see his mother was staring at him with deep concern. "Is something wrong? You look awfully pale." She brushed his hair aside, placing her lips against his forehead. "You feel warm. Come on, let's get you home." Molly wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders leading him towards the door.

A hand touched George's shoulder, causing him to look up at Angelina, who was smiling at him. "You gonna be ok?"

George hesitated slightly. Not because he had to think about it, but because he was afraid she wouldn't believe him when he said, "Yea."

Despite what he thought, her smile widened, and she wrapped an arm around his neck. "Good." When her lips were right next to his ear, she whispered softly, "You let me know if you ever need anything." Angelina pulled back, still smiling. "K?"

George smiled in return, though even on his own face it felt forced. "Ok."

She patted him on the arm, starting to leave. "I'll see you later then." Angelina sauntered off, greeting a few people on the way down.

George watched her for a bit, almost feeling the knowing look from his mother, but he was distracted when they reached the rest of the family. From this close angle it was clearer to see Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermoine crowded on the stairs behind Arthur and Charlie. They seemed to look a bit scared, except for Ron who, once again, seemed as though he was trying to avoid looking at George. It almost looked as though Hermoine had dragged him up here.

"Is everything ok?" Arthur stepped forward, looking from his wife to his son.

"I think so." Molly answered, glancing up at George. "Isn't it?"

George was almost feeling a bit rebellious again and shrugged. "Don't ask me, I don't know anymore."

The horrified looks on his parents faces made him wish he hadn't said anything.

Charlie slid an arm around his shoulder, whispering in his ear, "You do realize I can't keep Mum off you when you go and throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower, don't you?"

George's face flushed a tad, and he actually gave a near genuine smile. "It was an accident. I got kinda turned around in thought."

"Uh huh. Well, maybe you should stop thinking."

George actually did laugh, though the smile didn't seem to reach his darkened eyes. "You're starting to sound like Fred."

Charlie squeezed his shoulder.

"I was just about to take George on home."

"That's probably a good idea." Stated Arthur, brushing a hand over his wife's face. "You should take the rest of the kids home, as well. I still need to help Bill and Percy sort out what we're doing with Fr-" He paused, looking from his wife to George, and cleared his throat. "With what we need to do now."

George's eyes shifted downward. His head suddenly felt fuzzy, and he leaned it against Charlie's shoulder. Charlie glanced down at him. "Wow, you do feel warm."

"I'm just tired."

"And you smell like booze. Have you been drinking?"

"Huh? No, why?" George looked up at his brother, then realized his pant leg felt wet. He felt around, when something pricked his finger. Near understanding dawned on him, and George reached into his pocket pulling out the spout of a glass bottle, the bottom of it having shattered, freeing the liquid inside. George's expression fell slightly.

"Where'd you get that?"

George sighed, dropping his head against Charlie's shoulder, and slid the nozzle back into his pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You all go ahead back to the Burrow. We'll catch up with you all later." Arthur stated, still addressing his wife.

"Dear, are you sure you won't need any help?" Molly inquired of her husband, grasping his arm.

"The boys and I can handle it, Molly. You just take care of the kids." Arthur kissed his wife, before heading back towards the stairs. He stopped briefly, leaning over towards Charlie, as Molly began to shepherd the rest of the kids away. He cupped his hand next to his mouth. "Look after your mother. She's not as strong as she seems, right now. And you." He turned to George, and sighed. His hand fell on his shoulder. "Just be careful." Feeling the heat, he shifted the back of his hand against George's cheek. "It seems all that over-time at the store's finally catching up to you. Get some rest, Son."

George nodded. "I will."

They set off down the stairs, catching up to the rest of the family. Arthur broke off to find Bill, Fleur and Percy, while Molly, and the rest of the family, headed for the outskirts of the campus so that they could apparate home. The Weasley's had apparated as a family a few times before. It was an interesting effect, typically feeling worse for those further away from the parents. Which is why they started to work it out in the same sense as a port-key. Everyone would hold onto each other, and make sure they have one hand on the parent who is apparating them to their destination.

George instinctively reached out his hand to take one next to him, but no one grabbed it. It took him a second glance to realize that there was no one on that side of him. He curled his hand back in, gripping tighter onto Charlie.

xXx

Without a word to anyone, George went on up to his room. He was intending to follow his father's advice and get some sleep, but it seemed as though all the exhaustion flooded out of him when he entered the door. A quick glance to his left, and George jumped. Before Fred had only been there in voice, or in shadow, but there he was again. Sitting there, staring at him. It seemed odd for Fred not to be saying anything, but it really didn't matter at the moment. In fact, Fred looked just as dumbstruck as he felt.

Feelings his hands and legs shaking, George moved closer to his twin, wondering what he was doing here. "Fred?" Fred's mouth opened as if he was trying to say something, but the only voice George could hear was his own.

They reached for each other, laying their palms flat against the other's. Fred's hand felt cool and smooth, to the touch. It was a bit unnerving.

A crunch sounded, when George dropped his other hand down on the dresser, and he glanced down to see his palm had crushed what looked like a black pod. Probably from one of the many ingredients he had strewn across his desk.

A quick glance up, and George realized Fred was looking down too. This wasn't too odd, but the angle he was looking, he wouldn't be able to see what was going on. George looked back up at him, and drew his hand back and waved it in front of his twin's face... noting that Fred did the same. George groaned, smacking himself in the head... and so did Fred. He dropped his head down onto the dresser. "How can I be so stupid?"

"Come off it, George. You're not stupid. You're just off."

George's head snapped back up to stare at his reflection, but it wasn't looking back at him this time. His head felt funny, and he blinked hard to try and clear his eyesight, but nothing changed. The reflection was looking off into the opposite corner of the room, and he looked sad.

"Fred!" George jumped up straight, dropping both hands onto the dresser. "Fred, is that really you? Are you ok?"

Fred finally looked over towards him, a pained glint in his eyes. He looked as though he was going to cry, and that hurt far more than anything else. "What do you think?"

George's heart fell. That's not what he wanted to hear. "Fred, look I-"

"Where were you?"

"What?"

Fred turned more towards him, his eyes shifting to a more annoyed gaze. "You can still hear, can't you? Where were you? I looked for you, but you were no where to be found." He slammed his hands down on the dresser, on his side. "Where were you!"

George jumped, stumbling back a bit. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "I-I was just." His mind reeled trying to think of something to say. It was a bit unnerving to see Fred seem angry with him. "I blacked out. I didn't even know what happened to me."

"Do you know what happened to me?"

"No, I don't. Believe me, Fred, I wish I did. There was just no way for me to-"

"WHY WEREN'T YOU THERE!" Fred shouted, leaning right up against the mirror. "You were supposed to be there for me, but you weren't. Where were you?"

"I looked for you." George cried, nearly pleading for his brother to understand. He felt more scared than he could ever remember, in his life. Even more so than at the actual battle. Fred was mad at him. He probably even hated him. How could he let something like this happen? "I looked everywhere for you, but when I found you." George's entire body was shaking so badly that he couldn't even support his own weight. He slumped into a chair in front of his dresser. "By the time I found you, you were already gone." George stared into the angry face of his twin, feeling his eyes burning. "There was nothing I could do."

"Then you should have tried harder!"

George jumped. "What? But, you were... I couldn't."

"There was a way. There's always a way, you should know that by now, George." Fred slammed his fist down on the dresser again. "You know there's something you can do, you're just not thinking hard enough."

George's fear started to mingle with confusion again. What did he think he could do? "But you're... I can't."

"Don't you want me back?"

The note in Fred's tone made George look up to see tears flooding his eyes. George stood up straight, reaching a hand against the glass. "Don't say that, of course I do. I would give anything to have you back, it's just." George paused, not wanting to say it, then slumped back in the chair.

Fred's brows furrowed slightly. "Just what?"

"It's just." George dropped his forehead into his hand, feeling his eyes try to swell with tears. "I'm so sorry, Fred."

There was a brief pause, in which Fred turned away from him again. "Sorry isn't going to bring me back to life."

George sobbed, lowering his head into his hands more.

"And neither is crying." Fred snapped, and George jumped looking back up at him again. "You need to stop being so pathetic. You have to find a way to make it work."

xXx

A few hours later, Molly opened the door into her son's room. Her eyes immediately fell onto the figure sleeping in the bed closest to her. The bed she was pretty sure shouldn't be occupied. A bit unsure, Molly slid closer, sitting on the side of the bed. She brushed the red hairs aside, confirming the loss of her son's ear was still the deciding factor. With a heavy sigh, she squashed the dream of having her child come back to her. It seemed strange that her difficulty with telling the two apart was becoming more pronounced now than it had before.

She really had to stop doing that. More times than not, Molly had to bite her tongue to avoid calling George by his twin's name.

George had removed his robes, and thrown them onto his bed, but little else. Molly reached over and loosened the tie, sliding it from his neck with great care, so that she didn't wake him. George stirred slightly, his hand coming up to grip his pillow. It was then that Molly noticed blood on his sheets. She gasped, following the pattern to see that George's hand was bleeding.

With a quick flick of her wand, she mended the cuts in his hand, and started to search for the source. It didn't take her long to realize the broken mirror sitting on his dresser. After a brief moment of confusion, dawning set in as to the reasoning behind this action. Molly moved over to repair the broken mirror, and siphoned the rest of the blood from the dresser. On her way back, she spotted a pair of black dress shoes sticking out from the bottom of the sheets. A small smile touched her lips, contrasting her ever present urge to cry, and Molly slowly untied the shoes, and slid them from her son's feet, pulling the covers down over them.

Molly moved back up, tucking her child in further, and sat back down on the bed, proceeding to stroke his hair. George moaned, clutching the pillow closer into him, and sniffed. This time Molly couldn't hold back her tears anymore as she looked down on him. "It's going to be ok, Georgie. I promise it won't hurt forever."

##

_AN: Ok, that sort of fell apart towards the end, but this was actually really fun to write. (What fun? What's wrong with me?) I remember one of my main pet peeves was that Fred and George were glued at the hip this entire series, so where the hell was George when Fred died? Well, this is my take on what happened to him. (It's not exactly what happened, because i was trying to fuse past and present, and didn't actually want to kill him, but i will go into further detail about the specifics.) So, yea. I needed to make it something fairly big in order to keep George away long enough to justify Fred's death._ _Ugh, did i just say, justify? There's nothing that can possibly justify something so horrible._


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